


He broke his son’s legs in two and said “it’s too dangerous out there to walk, so I had to save you”

by mikemunhoe



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 04:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17036258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikemunhoe/pseuds/mikemunhoe
Summary: Judas' relationship with his dad + the first person Judas buried





	He broke his son’s legs in two and said “it’s too dangerous out there to walk, so I had to save you”

The sand was cool against Judas’ feet as he walked the bare ground, the moon shining bright on his back. The sun had started to go down early again, and Jude had been out for a short trip when sundown had come. See, it was the boy’s birthday, and he was 21 today. His father had been kind enough to give him an extra 10$ on the usual cigarette run for whatever he desired. So Judas had spent about an hour in that store, carefully examining every dusty item on the broken down shelves. He had decided on a bag of pretzels and some gossip magazine with a pretty hollywood man on it.

As he approached his father’s trailer, plastic bag in hand, he noticed no light shining out through the shutters. He had hoped his father would be awake still, he hated having to wake him up and his father hated it more. Judas delicately creaked the door open, using it to cower behind as he called out.

“I’m back from the store, Pa” he said in the loudest voice he could manage. There was no response. Judas squinted against the darkness, looking down at his shoes. He wouldn’t have left, the man rarely left his trailer at all, even for food or cigarettes.

“Pa?” Jude repeated, a little louder this time. Still, no response. The boy tapped his fingers on the door knob as he peaked around the door. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw his father lounged in his reclining chair, eyes closed and head lulled to the side. He wasn’t breathing his usual wheezy breathes.

Judas let out a soft sigh and set the bag on the counter, closing the door as lightly as he had opened it. He uncaringly approached his father and felt around the man’s wrist for a pulse, to which there was none. The boy rubbed his palms on his jeans, seemingly unphased, as he grabbed both of his father’s limp arms and dragged his body out the door. He had rounded the corner of the trailer and let the body contort itself on the ground. Grabbing a shovel from his own van, he returned to the body to see a vulture hunched over it, pecking angrily into the corpses eye. Judas cringed, but ignored the bird, letting it feast. The bird looked rather skinny anyways, and the boy understood hunger better than anyone.

So, he started digging, and digging, and digging until the sun’s light spilled over the horizon and the sand began to warm again. And then he had climbed from the pit, and kicked his father’s now decimated body into the grave, and then covered him up. The crucifix his father had nailed to the side of his trailer was now rammed into the sand, marking the grave. The vulture curiously pecked at that instead, and Judas headed inside. He washed his hands, and grabbed a few bags and began throwing things into them; food, water, clothes, utensils and supplies. He stuffed them into the corner of his van and sat down on the dusty old couch, shoving aside the pillows and blankets. He unfolded the TV tray, and set his magazine down on it, and then opened his bag of pretzels, and quietly flipped through the pages, gawking at all the expensive looking dresses and even more expensive looking women.

Once he had finished, he packed the items away and moved to sit in the front seat, fingers tapping on the wheel as he decided where to go, what to do. He was free now. His eyes glanced over to the stack of books resting in the passenger seat, one catching his eye in particular. The Book of Joseph. Some book his father had picked up from God knows where a few months back, and a book Judas had thoroughly empathized with. His knowledge was limited, but he remembered picking out Montana on the old dusty map in his Gramama’s trailer. He turned the ignition, putting the car into gear, as he drove off through the desert. Montana, it is.

 


End file.
